


It's Not Your Traditional Mistletoe

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: "I really want to see someone draw or write about Sherlock attempting to get a blow job using mistletoe. Because he deleted the meaning of it. And because porn. Surely someone out there can do this for me?!? -puppy eyes- Christmas spirit and all. :)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Your Traditional Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressKikisShipHasSailed](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MistressKikisShipHasSailed).



> Italics are used to indicate thoughts.

“John, why are you hanging a poisonous plant in our flat?”  Two rare things were occurring in 221B.  One, Sherlock was baffled, and two John (who was Mr. No-Unsafe-Experiments-In-The-Flat) was hanging mistletoe.  Even school children knew that mistletoe was poisonous if ingested, so trained doctor should surely know better than to hang that plant where it’s berries might fall into one’s tea.  
  
“Sherlock, surely you know the purpose of mistletoe?” John chuckled.    
  
“I know that is an effective poison who’s symptoms can be masked as a bad case of the flu or a heart attack,” replied Sherlock, dismissively waving his hand as he lay on the couch.  Why was John asking such a ridiculous question?  
  
John laughed.  “Don’t tell me you deleted what mistletoe is used for during the holiday season?”  
  
Sherlock’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.  “You mean besides getting rid of unwanted guests?”  
  
John actually belly laughed at that.  “Well, I suppose it could if used properly, but no,” he grinned as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.  Sherlock looked at him askance. John coughed, cleared his throat, and licked his lips.  “Sherlock, mistletoe is hung this time of year, so that two people can exchange something special beneath it.  Usually it’s two people who care about each other or to make someone else smile.”  He smiled at Sherlock, then quickly looked away.  
  
“Hmm, I must have deleted that use then,” came Sherlock’s reply.  And as he said that he descended into his mind palace.  Sherlock had started to take more stock in what John thought was important, because he had recently discovered how important John was to him.  Not that he’d admit it to anyone, of course.  He tried searching his mind palace for what was exchanged under the mistletoe, but he had, indeed, deleted that use.  He did manage to pull a few of the folklore uses he had saved, just in case someone was idiotic enough to believe and use mistletoe for those purposes.  Mistletoe was believed to be representative of the divine male (Sherlock’s laughter echoed off the walls of his mind palace at that) and therefore was linked to fertility, romance, and vitality.  The only thing that Sherlock could conclude that would be special enough to exchange under the mistletoe and under those circumstances, must be sexual favors.    
  
Sherlock rose from his mind palace to find a blanket had been thrown over him, the lights turned off, and a mug of tepid tea on the table.  Beside the mug was a note, “Don’t try to call me down to make another if this one’s gone cold. I’m exhausted.”  Sherlock could almost hear the affectionate tone in John’s handwriting.  _So two people who care about each other exchange sexual favors under mistletoe, he thought, I care for John and he obviously cares for me (such an easy deduction).   He was afraid to say anything for fear he was wrong. That must be why he hung the mistletoe._    
  
Sherlock went about his usual routine, trying to figure out a way to not frighten John off, and yet exchange the perfect sexual favor.  This would after all be their first time, and as Sherlock understood it, these things were supposed to be “special”.  He decided, due to the placement of the mistletoe, that the easiest and most reasonable act to perform under it would be fellatio.  Now to somehow get him and John under it together.  
  
That turned out to actually be easier than he had thought and didn’t require any planning, much to his chagrin.  Half the fun was planning something.  Sherlock was headed back into the kitchen one morning, still in his pyjamas and dressing gown, to finish one of his experiments as John was walking out to the living area.  They brushed into each other and Sherlock looked up and grinned.  John stopped in his tracks as he followed his flatmate’s eyes upwards to the mistletoe, his mouth forming an “Oh” of realization.  
  
“I do believe this is the part where two people exchange something special,” rumbled Sherlock, using the voice that had made many a woman and man weak in the knees.  
  
John gulped, “Ye-es.”  
  
Sherlock wrapped his arm around John’s waist and pulled him against him, sandwiching himself between John and the doorframe.  John gasped as he crashed into Sherlock, throwing out an arm to brace himself, while wrapping the other around Sherlock to keep him from falling.  Sherlock reached down between them with his free hand to try and unbuckle John’s belt, only to have John swat his hand away with the arm he’d used to brace himself.  
  
“What are you doing, Sherlock?” John asked, obviously confused by the course of events.    
  
“Exchanging sexual favors is the special something two people do under mistletoe, am I right?”  
  
“Oh, Sherlock,” John said sadly with a smile, “No, the special something is this,” and John rose up on his toes and planted a tender kiss on Sherlock’s lips.  Now it was Sherlock’s mouth that formed an “Oh” of realization. John slowly began to back away, both disappointed and afraid he’d crossed a line.  
  
Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him back into his arms.  “I may have been mistaken about the meaning of mistletoe, but I am not mistaken in what I want, nor do I think, are you.”    
  
“Oh, God. Yes.  And, just so you know, kissing is the appropriate response to being caught under the mistletoe, but just between you and me...and only you and me,” John emphasized as he captured Sherlock’s mouth again, “kisses aren’t limited to lips.”  
  
And, to emphasize his point, John began kissing his way down Sherlock’s neck, slowly raising Sherlock’s grey t-shirt up, so that he could plant more kisses and love bites as he slowly knelt to the floor.  The grey pyjama pants sat low on Sherlock’s hips and John began slowly tugging them lower.  Sherlock gripped John’s shoulder with one hand and the door frame with the other, squeezing hard on the door frame to avoid causing John pain.  The sensation of John’s lips on his skin was almost electric.  He found it hard to focus on anything but those lips and John’s eyes looking up at him.  
  
John pulled Sherlock’s pyjamas down and freed Sherlock’s already hard cock from the loose fabric.  Sherlock watched as John placed a kiss on the head.  John looked up at him and grinned.  “Kissing’s over,” he replied mischievously.  
  
And with that, John took Sherlock in his mouth.  Sherlock’s eyes shuttered closed and he threw his head back at the intense feeling of the heat of John’s mouth, the teasing of his tongue, and gentle but insistent suction around his cock.  Sherlock grabbed the hair on the back of John’s head, feeling John moan around him as he did so.  He encouraged John to quicken his pace, feeling John’s tongue circle his head as he rose and fell.  John stroked him with one hand as he sucked faster, the other arm circling around Sherlock’s waist, holding him in place.  Sherlock barely had room to answer John’s mouth with his thrusts.  Sherlock heard himself moan John’s name followed by “Please! Faster!”  He thrust into John’s mouth as John quickened his pace, humming around Sherlock’s cock.  He felt himself building, getting closer to the edge, and sweet release.  He climaxed, calling John’s name.  Panting, he looked down to see John swallow and wipe his mouth, smiling.    
  
John helped Sherlock lower himself to the floor and pulled Sherlock into his arms, allowing him a few moments to come back down.  Sherlock allowed John to card his fingers through his hair as he began to calm his breathing and come down from the endorphin rush.  It felt almost as wonderful as John’s mouth.   _This is something I want to explore again.  What sort of reactions would John have to my mouth around him_?  Sherlock turned to John, “I find I like this tradition of mistletoe.  I believe that we should start one of our own.  And it’s my turn to return the favor,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye.


End file.
